Blue Horizons
by Phoenix Bradley
Summary: a 21st century girl winds up in Middle Earth and finds herself befriending the last person she expected. I own nothing. Forgot to type this at the beginning, but I don't own anything at all! Complete!
1. Where am I?

Blue Horizons

by, Smeagol'sgirl

Hope-Anne stormed into her room with tears streaming down her face. Of all the fights she had gotten into with her parents, that had to have been the worst. They had just found out about her boyfriend who was her age but had a history of being in trouble with the cops. He had even spent the last month in JUVY. But she loved him, or so she thought and wanted nothing more than to kill her parents for cutting off all contact with him.

She logged onto her laptop and waited for the internet to load up. Once she was online, she got into her favorite chat room and immediately began her rant on how much she hated her parents. Several girls responded telling her to stay with him, or runaway, or see him behind their backs... but none of them had any comfort for her. But then someone else entered the chat room called Lylathia. A strange name, but so were many of the other names on there. The person called Lylathia began talking to her immediately.

Lylathia: Hope-Anne, I know what you are going through.

Hope was shocked. Not only did this person start talking to her out of the blue, but she knew her name! Hope had never posted her real name on there before. It had always been DCT234. "Weird," she muttered to herself. She immediately responded.

DCT234: You do?

Lylathia: Yes. I can help too.

DCT234: IDK...

(IDK: I don't know.)

Hope had always been warned about people who said things like that in a chat room. But then again, she never listened to her parents anyway.

DCT234: What can u do?

Lylathia: I can get you out of there.

Hope noticed for the first time that no one else seemed to be responding to their conversation. She was about to type something in when Lylathia spoke again.

Lylathia: They can't read this. It's just you and me.

DCT234: What r u talking about?

She was getting nervous. Whoever this person was, was beginning to scare her. She was almost ready to get out of there and find another chatroom.

Lylathia: Follow the light...

Just then, a small golden spark appeared in the top right corner of the screen. As Hope watched it, it gradually began to get bigger. She wanted to turn away. But something called her to that light. Soon the light was around her and everything around her seemed to fade. She felt herself being dragged somewhere far away and soon she was falling, falling, and...

Her head struck something stone and darkness took her.

Smeagol walked up to the well with his friend Deagol to draw water. Both were talking eagerly about their plans for the weekend. Since schooling was a rare and important thing and both their parents could afford it, they were forced to take classes during the weekdays. The two of them thought it a waste of time and wished that they could spend more time together fishing, hunting and having fun like they used to when they were young. Smeagol was the first to reach the well.

"So after that we can... whoa!" he stumbled on an unseen body and fell over flat on his face. Deagol almost fell over laughing and came to him to help him up.

"Honestly, Smea, you're going to kill yourself someday if you don't watch where you are going." Smeagol smirked and looked over to where he had tripped. Laying on the ground was a young girl, a little younger than him (he was only twenty) with beautiful black hair that only came down to her shoulders, wearing the strangest clothes he had ever seen.

"Who is he?" asked Deagol, mistaking it for a male. Smeagol shrugged and walked up to her, noticing for the first time the large gash on her head. He also noticed her very female like hips and chest.

"I don't think it's a he, Deagol," he muttered. "She's been hurt bad," he added pointing out the head wound.

"I guess you aren't the only clumsy one then," said Deagol with a smile.

"Let's get her to my home quickly," he muttered. "Otherwise she'd make a fine meal for the wargs." Deagol helped him pick her up and together they carried her to his home. There his grandmother, whom he had lived with most of his life, fussed over her wounds and made sure she was kept warm. The entire time, Smeagol, though he thought she looked strange, could not take his eyes off her. Maybe it was out of concern, or maybe interest, but he wasn't sure. And it wasn't until a few hours later when she finally came to.

She stirred, groaning painfully and sat up slowly rubbing her head.

"You lay right back down and relax, young lady," said Smeagol's Grandmother as she proceeded to clean her wounds. The girl stared at her, terrified and looked around the room.

"Where am I?" she asked.

"It's all right, child," said the grandmother more comfortingly this time. "My grandson, Smeagol, found you by the well and said you were out cold. It's not safe for a young person like you to be out at this hour. There's dangerous men out at night." The girl looked even more confused and stared at the Grandmother.

"What place is this?" she asked.

"You're just on the other side of the Anduin in the Gladden fields. My name is Tabitha, but you can call me Tabby." The girl thought for a minute.

"The Anduin? But that can't be. That's in Middle Earth." Tabby looked at her as though she had lobsters crawling out of her ears.

"You are in Middle Earth, child. Where else could you be?" The girl leaned back and her eyes widened. This couldn't be right. As far as she knew, Middle Earth wasn't real. She couldn't be there... could she?

She felt a pair of eyes on her and she looked across the room at the young stoor who was staring at her intently. She saw his feet, they were so big and harry. Just like a hobbit's. Then she noticed her own feet and almost died. They were like his, and she was short, or she could only guess that if she could fit in that bed. She was a hobbit and this place was real!

"Do you have a name?" asked Tabby. The girl stuttered before she spoke up.

"Hope. Hope-Anne."

"You're parents didn't think one name was good enough for you, ey?" she asked. Hope looked at her but could not think of a response. "That's all right. It's a pretty name, ain't no mistaken. Not one I've ever heard of. It's a shame though that someone with such a pretty name and face should be traipsing about in nothing but black." Hope smiled and giggled. She got that a lot at home. She looked down and realized Tabby was right. Her black t-shirt, black pants, red and black striped 'Hello Kitty' arm warmers, and black make-up must've been a sight for them. She was used to that type of dress though. If only they knew where she came from. "Where do you come from?" asked Tabby.

"Far," she answered. "Probly in a place you'll never go to."

"Dressed like that, one might think you were from Mordor." Hope caught a glimpse of Smeagol smirking at her.

"This is nothing," she replied. "I have friends who wear large pants with about a dozen chains on them and have so many facial piercings, it makes your stomach turn." Tabby stared at her again like she was crazy.

"I think you may have hit your head a wee bit harder than I thought." Smeagol held back a laugh and Hope remained silent until she was left alone.


	2. Meeting Deagol

It was not until morning before she finally forced herself to stand up. She was slightly dizzy, but managed to walk over to the mirror in the room and look at herself. Her hair was not as messy as she thought it would be. She thought she looked strange standing this short. As she turned around, her eyes noticed something. A bag laying on her bed with a note on it. She stared at it for a minute and then walked up to it, taking the note.

Thought you could use these.

She stared, trying to figure out what that meant and then went through the pack. She gasped with delight as she removed clothing that belonged to her. Many of her favorite pants and t-shirt with sarcastic remarks on them. Also there was a hair brush and other things that had not been invented yet that would come in handy, like makeup.

Picking out and outfit, she changed into a pair of baggy black pants with red stitching, a chocker that resembled a dog collar, a pair of wrist warmers and a black t-shirt that said, "Before you criticize someone, try walking a mile in their shoes. Because then you'll be a mile away and you'll have their shoes." There was a pair of sneakers right above the writing. She applied some makeup and fixed her hair in a tight ponytail. When she was done, there was a knock at her door and she opened it to find Smeagol standing there. He scanned her outfit briefly and shrugged.

"My Grandmother just wanted me to see if you were walking yet," he said softly.

"Oh," she said, smiling at him. "No, I just happened to float out of the bed." He smirked and she giggled.

"Well, if you're hungry or anything..."

"Nah," she lied. "I'm fine, thanks."

"All right," he said kindly. He watched as she threw the clothes she had worn the previous day into her pack. "May I ask you something?" he asked softly.

"What?" she asked, looking up at him.

"Why do you wear so much black? Are there no other colors, wherever you come from." She smiled and held back a laugh.

"There are other colors," she answered. "But this is my choice in style. I'm not the only one either. Black just happens to be my favorite color."

"A form of self expression then?"

"Exactly. Only with this style you can wear whatever you want and not care what anyone else thinks. It's all about being yourself."

"Is that some sort of belief system I've not heard of?

"In a way. It's called Gothic. But there's more than self expression in that. There's also a lot of depression and anger and numbness and embracing the darkness around us. At least, that's what the majority of them feel, including me." Smeagol's eyes widened at this response.

"Well," he said, picking his words carefully. "That sounds interesting."

"It's not bad." She smiled warmly at him and looked around. "I think I'll wander around the village, if that's all right."

"Of coarse," he said, his smile returning. She nodded and followed him out of the room.

While she walked around, Hope spent the time focusing on what she was going to do. She knew she couldn't stay here forever, her parents would miss her. Her nose crinkled as she remembered the way they had reacted over her boy friend. He would miss her too, she thought at least.

A small round disk hit her leg lightly and fell to the ground, throwing her out of thought. She looked down and picked it up curiously. A young hobbit child walked up to her, nervously and looked at the disk.

"May I please have that?" she asked sweetly. Hope smiled and knelt down, placing it into the little girl's hands.

"There you go," she said kindly. The little girl smiled and walked away after muttering a 'Thank you'. Hope watched as she went to a group of children and they continued playing with the disk. There was a snarl behind her and she turned to see a man who was struggling with an instrument which somewhat resembled a guitar.

"Are you okay?" she asked. The man looked at her and held up the 'guitar'.

"I can't get this confounded instrument to cooperate." Hope would have normally ignored, but being a guitar player herself, she decided to see what was wrong.

"What seems to be the problem?"

"Ach," he replied with a snarl. "What would a female know of these matters? I'll just go to my master for help..."

"Hey!" she interrupted. "I can help. Now show me the problem." He stared at her unsure and then shrugged.

"I can't string it," he said, pointing to the dangling strings. Hope took the instrument from him and looked at it. The structure was not much different from a guitar. She could figure it out. She took the strings from him and fiddled with it for a while. About five minutes later she handed the instrument back, fully strung.

"There," she said triumphantly. He smiled at her.

"I must apologize for my comments, before."

"Can I see it for one more minute?" she asked. He shrugged and handed it back. She tuned it and played it for a few minutes, causing herself attention. She strummed the only slow song she knew, not noticing the crowd forming.

"A girl who plays music?" cried one man. "It's unheard of!"

"Who taught her to play like that?" asked a woman. She stopped and handed the guitar back.

"It's a nice instrument," she said politely. "Thanks." The man smiled at her and nodded.

"You play beautifully," he complemented. "Where did you learn?"

"Self-taught. It's kind of hard to have someone teach it to you. You have to get the feel for it."

"Aye. I guess I understand. Do you play anything else?"

"No," she answered, though she could play the drums and piano but knew that probably neither existed yet.

"See here," said the man looking around. "I know you think that it's a self taught thing, but could you give my boy a few lessons?"

"Oh," she said, clearly not expecting to hear that. "I really don't know-"

"I'll pay you well if you do. I beg you. It'd be helpful if he were able to do at least one thing right besides fishing."

"Well, what's wrong with fishing?" she asked.

"Bah! Sitting in a boat all day, watching life pass you by. It's not right. The boy needs something worth-while to do." Hope thought about this for a while and then shrugged.

"I guess I could then, if you feel so strongly about it. But only he'll be able to decide if he's going to learn or not. Not me. But I'll try." The man smiled and shook her hand.

"Thank you, miss. You can meet him now, if you wish."

"all right," she said kindly. The man turned and shouted.

"Deagol! Come 'ere, boy!" Hope gasped, knowing who Deagol was. Smeagol's best friend whom he would murder soon. She began to re-think her decision. She didn't want to get attached to someone she would lose. Deagol came up to his father's side and looked at her for a moment.

"You!" he muttered. "I was about to see Smeagol about you. How's your head?"

"Much better," she answered, stroking the bruise on her forehead.

"You know her?" asked his father, confused.

"Smeagol and I found her laying by the well with a nasty bump on her head."

"I tripped," she muttered, blushing slightly embarrassed.

"Ah. Well, Deagol m' boy. Miss... er...?"

"Hope," she said quickly.

"Hope, has agreed to teach you guitar." Deagol looked at her surprised and she simply shrugged, looking like this had just suddenly come up for her as well.

"But, father," he started to say.

"No buts. Now," he handed Hope the guitar. "Why don't the two of you go out back and get started. I'll pay you ten pieces of silver at the end of the day, Hope." Hope nodded and walked off with Deagol to the back of the yard. They both took seats in the grass and she positioned the guitar in her hands.

"Well," she said, feeling rather awkward. "I guess the first thing you should know is that this isn't easy to learn. It takes a lot of practice and commitment." He nodded and watched as she got her fingers in place.

"Now, I'm going to show you a chord and you try it until you have it memorized. Okay?"

He nodded and watched.

"Let's start with a G-chord." She positioned her fingers and strummed down. She let go and handed the guitar to him. "You try." He took it, not looking very certain, and then tried to place his fingers in the right place. Hope reached over and touched his fingers. "Switch those two." He obeyed and she took one final glance before nodding. He carefully strummed down, as though he were afraid he'd break it. She smiled and nodded.

"Perfect," she said kindly. "Keep strumming it." He strummed down a few more times, occasionally stopping so she could tell him to go softer or try it a little faster. Soon he let go from sore finger tips.

"My fingers," he muttered. She looked at them and saw the small indents from the strings.

"I know, it hurts the first few weeks. But after it calluses over it'll be fine. Give your fingers a rest and then we'll try another chord." He nodded and handed her the guitar. She started playing and softly singing along.

_Once I met a walking man_

_Who told me of his crazy plan_

_He'd been walking there for twenty days_

_He was gonna walk on for twenty more_

_I said, "How 'bout a drink or a bite to eat,"_

_He said, "No, my faith is all I need"_

_I said then, "Save me, save me_

_Mr. Walking man if you can_

_You don't need to prove a thing to me_

_Just give me faith, make me believe_

_Save me, save me_

_Said stranger, if ya please_

_Save me, save me_

_Stranger if you please_

_Or am I too far gone to get back home?_

_(song "Save Me" by Dave Matthew's Band)_

Deagol smiled and she stopped looking at him.

"How's your fingers?" she asked.

"They're better," he said softly.

"Good. We'll try one more chord and then call it quits." He nodded and took the guitar from her. About twenty minutes later they stopped and she was thoroughly pleased. The two of them had gotten along great and gotten to know each other a little better. Hope had soon forgotten her fear of getting attached to him because it was too late. He was very kind and friendly and she couldn't help but have a good time with him. Every so often he would throw a jest or make a silly comment that made her laugh. It wasn't till after they had finished that they saw Smeagol. He had come over, completely surprised to see her there.

"Hope," he said with a smile. "I was beginning to wonder where you were."

"Sorry," she said softly. "I didn't mean to be gone so long. I was just showing Deagol a few chords for guitar." Smeagol gave her a look similar to Deagol's father's.

"You play guitar?" he asked. "I've never met a girl who could do that. Most of them spend their time reading and learning how to raise a family."

"Well, I'm not your average girl," she said, giggling.

"Smeagol can play too," said Deagol with a smile. "He often causes the windows to shatter and birds to fall from the sky, stunned though." They both started laughing and Smeagol smirked and rolled his eyes.

"Thanks, Dea."

"Smeag, you should hear her play. She's good." Hope shook her head.

"Nah. That's all right..."

"No, please? One more song?" She sighed and took the guitar.

"Only if he plays when I'm done," she laughed. Smeagol nodded and Hope quickly thought of what to play.

_I took my love and I took it down_

_I climbed a mountain and I turned around_

_And I saw my reflection in a snow covered hill_

_Where a landslide brought me down_

_Oh mirror in the sky, what is love?_

_Can the child within my heart rise above?  
Can I sail through the changing ocean tides?_

_Can I handle the seasons of my life?_

_Well I've been afraid of changing cuz I_

_Build my life around you_

_And time makes bolder children get older_

_And I'm getting older too_

_(song by Dixie Chicks)._

Smeagol smiled at her and Deagol applauded her.

"She sings good too, Deagol," said Smeagol with a smile.

"I know she does."

Hope smiled and handed the guitar back.

"Keep practicing. Right now, I need to eat or I'm going to faint." Smeagol chuckled and they both left back to his house.


	3. Perfect Match

Back at the house the two sat there eating whatever they wanted. Smeagol sat back, chewing on some bread while Hope crunched into an apple.

"So," asked Smeagol. "Do you have any family?"

"I did," she answered. How could she possibly explain to him without sounding insane?

"What happened?"

"I left. My dad was just getting on my nerves and my mom was being a jerk."

"A jerk?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"An ass," she said, knowing he'd probly understand. He chuckled and shrugged.

"I understand fully," he said, laughing. "Where do you plan to go?"

"Not sure," she answered. "Maybe I'll settle down here. I'll have to if I am to teach Deagol how to play guitar. Once I have the money I'll get my own home or something."

"What about finding a husband and starting a family?" he asked.

"Haven't really thought that out yet. I'm a little young to be getting married, don't you think?"

"Why? How old are you?"

"Fifteen as of last week."

"Girls your age are already getting married," said Smeagol. Her jaw dropped and she almost gagged.

"Wow. Things really are different here. How old are you?" she asked.

"I just turned eighteen." So he still had a while before he'd kill Deagol.

"So you're only three years older than me. Happy be-lated birthday." He chuckled and she smiled.

"Same to you." She smiled and held up her water glass. "Cheers." He gently clacked his glass with hers and they both drank.

"So, if you were to get married, how long are you planning to wait?"

"I dunno," she said, shrugging. "Where I came from it was usually in your early twenties or so, but now that I'm here, I don't know. Probably in a year or so. Depends on the guy."

"And what would you look for in a guy?" he said, emphasizing 'guy'.

"Someone that really cares. A guy who would love me until I die. You know, who, sixty years from now when I'm all saggy and gray and old looking, still looks at me and sees a queen that captivates him." She smiled to herself and shook her head. "If there was such a thing, anyway." Smeagol smiled and nodded.

"Most women here look for a man with a lot of money. Not like what you just described though."

"I guess I sound crazy then."

"No!" he cut in. "Not at all. I think it's wise what you're looking for. I think you'll end up happier than most girls do."

"I wouldn't go that far, but thanks anyway." She took the last bite of her apple and looked at the core, not sure what to do with it.

"Give it here," said Smeagol, reaching for it. She handed it to him and he walked up to the window and threw it out. There was soon the thundering sound of dogs barking and running to the applecore. "The neighbor's dogs will eat anything." Hope nodded and smiled.

"Sounds like me. That's where all the fat came from." She slapped her stomach and Smeagol made a face.

"What? You're not fat!" She just started laughing and shook her head.

"That's okay. It's not like I've never seen myself in the mirror."

"Then I hope you're taken aback because you're pretty." She almost fell over laughing with this.

"Okay. Now I've heard everything." She smiled at him. "I like you. You're not bad, Smeag."

"You're a decent person as well." She smiled and thanked him. "So, you play the guitar quite well."

"Really?" she asked.

"Oh, yes. I was impressed. Would you like to go tonight out by the river and play some more? It's very peaceful at night." She smiled at him suspiciously and then nodded.

"Sure," she said kindly. "That sounds good."

"all right," he said smiling. "Well, I'd love to continue our conversation, but right now I have to go to work. I have a job as well."

"And what would that be?"  
"I'm teaching a little girl to read and write." Hope's eyes widened.

"Really? I never really pegged you as the literate type." He shrugged.

"Here," he pulled out a piece of paper and quill and jotted down an address. "This is where I'll be if you need anything." He handed it to her, grabbed his jacket off the hook on the wall and waved good-bye and left. She waited till he was gone and then went back to her room and fell asleep on the bed.


	4. Shadowed Past

When she awoke it had only been a few hours. Her eyes drifted dreamily around the room and she gradually remembered where she was. The room was slightly darker and she knew sunset was not far away. Slowly she got to her feet and stretched her sore body. She wandered around the house. Smeagol was still gone and she decided to find him. She pocketed the paper with the address and left the house.

It did not take long to find the house. She knocked on the door and a woman answered.

"Hello," she said kindly. "Can I help you?"

"Yeah," said Hope. "Is Smeagol here?"

"He's in the other room with my daughter. Please come inside." Hope smiled and stepped in quietly.

"Thank you," she said softly. She was led to the other room and found Smeagol sitting by the fire, a little girl sitting on his lap with a book in her hands. The girl was pale with long black hair that reached an inch below her waist. There were large dark circles under her eyes and her face was completely devoid of expression. Hope stayed there, watching in the doorway, the mother standing a foot behind her.

"That's my daughter, Samara," said the woman softly. "She'll be eight in a few days." Hope nodded and watched as the little girl began to stutter a line.

"M-m-my dog is b-b-b-big," she stuttered. Smeagol smiled and patted her leg.

"Very good," he said kindly.

"He's so wonderful," said the mother softly. "Samara usually struggles with speaking and reading, but for some reason she responds to him." Hope turned and looked at her.

"What's wrong with her?" she asked softly. The mother frowned.

"She's got a head problem. The doctors here of coarse can't do a thing to help it. It's a miracle she's lived this long." Hope's eyes widened and she looked back at Smeagol and Samara.

"Oh my gosh," she whispered. "But she's fine now, right?"  
"I can't tell anymore. Her face has lost expression, if you haven't noticed. And her speech has gotten worse with time. I don't know how much longer she's got. You can tell she suffers a lot. Some nights she has nightmares, but can't scream or call for me so I have to sleep nearby incase she does start to toss and turn. She's stopped crying as well. It's almost like she's just... there. She's not even living life anymore. It's heartbreaking." Hope nodded and watched as Samara stuttered out another line.

Inside the room, she noticed a number of portraits done. Since photography did not exist yet, everything was painted. There were many of Samara running around with other children or laughing or playing with a throwing disk. Hope's eyes narrowed. How could this be the same child she was seeing in Smeagol's lap?

"Smeagol," called the mother softly. "You've a visitor." Hope stepped in smiling briefly. Smeagol smiled and gestured her to come in. Samara looked up at her with her blank face and Hope sat down next to Smeagol.

"Samara," he said softly to the child. "This is Hope-Anne." Samara opened her mouth and tried to speak.

"H-h-h-hello.... H-hope-A-a-a-anne." Hope smiled and patted Samara's back.

"Hello Samara," she said softly. "Nice to meet you." Smeagol smiled at them both and turned to Hope.

"What brings you here?"

"Oh, just wondering where you were. It's okay isn't it?"

"Of coarse. I was just finishing up anyway."

"All right." She said smiling. They left fifteen minutes later, after Smeagol was paid and they had said goodbye to Samara and her mother. They went home and had dinner with Tabby and left later on to go by the river.

"Play me a song," said Smeagol, handing her the guitar. Hope giggled.

"I don't know if I can think of another one. A happy one anyway. Most of the songs I know are sad and depressing."

"Then play me a sad song. Bring tears to my eyes." She chuckled with him and then thought for a moment.

"Very well," she said, taking the guitar from him.

It was past sunset and the moonlight provided enough light for her to play. She had been amazed at how large the moon looked and how beautiful the stars were. The light sparkled off the river and outlined her silhouette. Smeagol secretly thought of how beautiful she looked to him, and then waited for her to play.

Alone as I sit and watch the trees

Won't you tell me if I scream

Will they bend down and listen to me?

And it makes me wonder

If I'll know the words when you come

Or will you laugh at me

Or will I run?

Little boy says to me

"Where you going now, girl?"

I said, "I don't know where I'm going boy

I only know where I'm from"

And it makes me wonder

If the stars shine when my eyes close

Or does my brother's heart cry

I don't know

I'm a stranger in my home

Now that everybody's gone

Someone please talk to me

'cause I feel you cry

And you're sitting with her

And I know I'll never see you again

Lying down in Charleston under the Carolina sky

You see I'm tired of feeling this pain

I'm tired of living my own little lie

And it makes me wonder

When I see you in my dreams

Does it mean anything?

Are you trying to talk to me?

I'm a stranger in my home

Tell me, are you feeling alone?

Someone tell me what to do

'cause I'm feeling strong

And I wonder how you feel

Does she realize my pain is for real

I see you in my dreams

And I wonder if you're looking down at me

And smiling right now

I wanna know if it's true

When she looks at me

Won't you tell me?

Does she realize she came down here

And took you too soon?

She strummed for a while, humming out a part that had no words. Smeagol listened, impressed even more. Even though the song was sad, it sounded more like something she would sing. It seemed to fit her. She often looked numb or sad when she thought he wasn't looking. He often wondered why, but decided not to ask. It was none of his business.

And now my days are short and my nights are long

I lay down with memories that keep me going on,

Going on

And it makes me wonder as I sit and stare

Will I see your face again?

Tell me, do you care?

I'm a stranger in my home

Living life on my own

Right now I just can't see

'cause I'm feeling weak

And my soul begins to bleed

And no one's listening to me

Not even the trees

(song by Hootie and the Blowfish)

She strummed a few more chords and then stopped, searching his face for a response.

"Well done," he said softly. "Very sad, but well done."

"Thanks," she said softly. "It's one of my favorites." Smeagol nodded and took the guitar from her, strumming while he spoke.

"So how long have you been alone?"

"A month," she lied. "Why?"

"Just curious. Is it hard?"

"Sometimes, but looking back, it's been one of the best choices I've made." He nodded and then made a face as he messed up a chord. "So, Samara's got a brain problem?"

"Yes. It's very sad, she's such a bright little girl. It makes me wish I could do something for her."

"I know. Me too."

"There are times when she throws tantrums and can't control it. It makes her mother go into hysterics, trying to make it stop."

"Have you ever seen them?"

"Yes. She was kicking and screaming and even ripping her hair out. I didn't know what to do so I let her mother deal with it."

"It's usually best to walk away and wait till they stop," she said softly. "I speak from personal experience."

"It's very difficult to ignore though."

"Oh, I know it is. But it's best."

"I guess I'll do that then next time." She shook her head and drew her knees under her chin. "It's not fair. A girl her age should be running around and having fun, not feeling completely blank."

"It's hard to watch."

"I don't know how you can do it. I'd be an emotional basketcase if I had to do that."

"I know. It's hard for me to deal with sometimes. There were days when I'd come home, just angry that she has to suffer on like this. I wonder why God doesn't just make it stop and let her be a child."

"God," muttered Hope. "Do you believe there's a God?"

"I suppose there is."

"Then where the hell is he?" asked Hope, a hint of anger in her voice. "Where was he when my parents would fight late at night when I was four and I'd sit in the furthest corner in my room, crying? Where was he when my best friend killed herself? Where was he when I'd cry myself to sleep for so long, just wondering what if I had been there to stop her? Where was he when some jerk at school said it was my fault? Why'd he let her die? Where is he when kids like Samara are born? If he was real, don't you think he'd give a damn about us?" She stopped and had to pass her sleeve over her eyes. Smeagol listened to her and soon understood why she was the way she was. He couldn't quite understand everything she said, but had the idea. Slowly, he placed an arm over her shoulders.

"I didn't know," he muttered. "I can't imagine what it's like to lose your best friend." Hope immediately thought You will too soon...

"I'm sorry," she said softly. "I barely know you and already I'm cracking up. I really need to learn to keep my mouth shut."

"No. It's good to let it out. It would have come out sooner or later anyway."

"I hated it," she whispered. "I can still remember it..."

(two months earlier...)

Hope came over to visit her friend, Alicia, like she always did after school. Alicia was sitting on her bed, reading when Hope had come into the room.

"Hey," she said, dumping her backpack on the floor. "What's up?"

"Nothing," said Alicia weakly. Hope had noticed the shakiness in her voice.

"Alicia? What's wrong?" Alicia was silent for a moment and then threw down her book.

"Eric broke up with me," she sobbed.

"What?" gasped Hope. "But you two were so close together!"

"Yeah, well, not after he found out..."

"Found out what?" asked Hope.

"I'm pregnant," she said, more tears falling. Hope's eyes widened.

"You mean you two...?"

"No!" shouted Alicia. "I told you, I'm waiting till my wedding night."

"Then who?" Alicia shook her head.

"I'm not supposed to tell," she wept.

"What do you mean? Are you in trouble? What's going on? You can tell me. I won't tell anyone, I swear." Alicia peered down the hall and then closed her bedroom door.

"You swear?"

"Yes. Now talk to me. What's going on?"

"It's my dad."

"What about him?"

"He did this."

"What?!" Alicia began to cry and then managed to speak again.

"He's been... hurting me... since I was six." Hope was at a loss for words. She had no idea what to say with Alicia crying like this.

"Does your mother know?"

"Obviously not. He told me he'd kill me and her both if I told anyone. You cannot tell anyone I told you! I don't care what he does to me. I just don't want him to hurt my mom."

"Okay, I won't tell... oh my God!" She soon found her own tears falling and she embraced Alicia and they cried for a while.

She stayed longer than normal that day and went home. She woke in the middle of the night with the sound of her cell phone ringing.

"Hello?" she asked.

"Hope... I can't do it. He's going to be in here any minute! I can't let him hurt me again."

"Should I call the police?"

"No!!!"

"Then tell me what to do! Please, Alicia."

"Oh my god! I can't. I'm going to kill myself." Click!

Hope heard the tone and threw her phone across the room and threw on a jacket and ran to Alicia's house, not even bothering to put shoes on.

When she got to the house, she ran to the bedroom window, thanking god that Alicia's room was on the first floor. She found a window open and climbed through. Alicia was laying on the bed completely pale. There was a large pool of blood surrounding her and her heart was not beating. It was too late.

Hope held Alicia's body in her arms and wept. The door behind her creaked open and standing there was Alicia's father, bare-chested with pajama pants on.

"You won't hurt her!" screamed Hope. "You jack ass! You killed her! You killed her!"

The father looked stunned and then left, returning quickly with a gun in his hands.

Hope screamed and he pinned her to the wall.

"You've got one big mouth on you. But not for much longer!" She screamed as his heavy form pressed on her and the tip of the gun pressed harder to her throat. Luckily the police came barging in right at that moment. Alicia's mother had heard Hope's screams and called the police quickly.

Hope wiped her tears away as she retold the story. She had to change it a little so it would make sense to Smeagol, but he understood.

"Oh, Arda," he muttered. "That must hurt you badly."

"It does," she replied, trying to stop her tears. "I miss her so much."

"I don't blame you!" Smeagol embraced her comfortingly and she cried softly.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I've never told anyone, not even my parents."

"How could they not know?"

"I asked the men that saved me to keep it quiet. I know for a fact that they wouldn't help me at all. They never do."

"I'm sorry." She cried a little longer.

"It's all my fault. If I had only gotten there faster or called for help sooner or something..."

"No. Hope, if you were about to take your life and your friend had just found out and was running there and made it too late, would it be her fault?" Hope was silent and finally shook her head.

"No," she whispered.

"Then forgive yourself. Let yourself heal."

"It's so hard," she whispered.

"Then let me help, or at least try to." She nodded. "You know, Samara may come in handy for this. You felt useless because you couldn't help your friend when she needed it? Well now's your chance. You can work with me to help Samara now." Hope thought about this and nodded.

"I'll try."

"Good." He looked up at the sky and sighed. "We should probably go home now. It's getting late."

"Okay," she said, raising herself to her feet. Smeagol put his arm around her and they walked home silently.


	5. Samara

The next morning, Hope stayed in bed later. Why had she told him all that? She barely even knew him and she was telling him her darkest secrets. Her eyes fell shut and she began to wish she had just been quiet and not burst out like that. It would be interesting to see how he treated her this morning. Would she even be able to face him?

Her eyes slitted open slowly and she jumped when she found a face in her own. She squealed and blinked and saw a girl standing there.

"Samara!" came a voice. Hope looked up and saw Smeagol come walking in. She immediately became conscious of her low cut spaghetti strap night shirt and mini shorts she wore to bed. "Sorry," said Smeagol, not seeming to notice. "Her parents were having company over and asked if I would bring her here. I don't know why she wandered off though. Come on Samara," he said, taking her hand. Hope got one final glimpse into the girl's eyes and watched as she followed Smeagol out. That was when she saw it. A long red streak going down the back of Samara's white dress. Hope stood up and wandered over to her, not caring about her pajamas, and checked to see if the mark was still there. Smeagol seemed to not notice and sat down with her by the fire. He looked up and spotted the look on Hope's face.

"Hope?" he asked. Hope did not take her eyes off Samara's back but spoke.

"Smeagol, her back..." she couldn't finish, and Smeagol took a look. He saw the mark as well and fingered it. The red mark was wet and stained his fingers when he touched it. Blood.

"What's this?" he muttered. Hope ran up and saw it was blood as well.

"She's bleeding," she muttered softly. "Here, let me take care of it." Smeagol nodded and Hope carried her into the bathroom, retrieving a bucket of war, water from Smeagol. She stripped off Samara's dress, very carefully and saw what was causing it. A large, ugly cut down her back that looked suspiciously like a whip mark.

"Oh my god," she muttered. "Samara, where did this come from?" Samara, of coarse did not speak and Hope proceeded to clean it. Samara sat motionless, twitching occasionally when the wet cloth touched her raw flesh. Hope was fighting back tears, knowing the poor girl couldn't cry or scream if it hurt. It wasn't fair. It was as though she wasn't even alive. Like it was just an empty body sitting there. Hope finally couldn't stand it and stepped in front of her.

"It's all right," she said softly. "Cry, please. Just let it out. Scream! Anything. It's okay. Just do it. Please don't just sit there like that cuz I'm gonna break." Samara simply stared and Hope gave up as a film of tears blinded her eyes. Samara reached up a hand and cautiously placed it on Hope's shoulder.

"I-I-I'm sorry," she whispered.

"No," said Hope, touching her hand. "It's not your fault. It's me. I'm so tired. Are you all right?"

"Y-yes."

"All right." Hope quickly brushed away the tears and finished taking care of the wound. "Smeagol?" she called.

"What?" came a reply.

"Could you get me one of my long shirts from my bag?" There was a pause and a black shirt was tossed in. "I know it's not beautiful, but this'll work till we can get you home and you can put on a real dress, all right?" Samara nodded slowly and Hope placed the T-shirt on. On the shirt was, ironically, the creature Gollum, from The Lord of the Rings. Hope's eyes widened when she realized this, and made sure that 'Smeagol' was not printed anywhere on it. Hopefully Smeagol wouldn't notice a resemblance. Samara looked at the shirt and back at Hope.

"W-Who... is... G-g-"

"Gollum?" said Hope, cutting in. "Well, er... he's a small guy with a very funny voice."

"What d-d-does he s-s-sound l-like?" Hope smiled.

"Like this. My, preciouss," she hissed. She had always been good at imitating Gollum's voice and was known for that at her school. To her shock, Samara's lips curved into a half smile, and though it was not laughing, it was good enough.

She carried her out into the common room to Smeagol and shrugged.

"It looks like a whip weal. Where could it have come from?"

"I don't know," muttered Smeagol, sounding just as surprised as she had been. "Are you sure?"

"Well, look." She sat Samara down and pulled the back of the shirt up to show him. Smeagol gasped and restrained from touching it.

"That's a whip mark all right. I'll ask her mother about it." Samara suddenly began to tremble and they both stared, suspicious.

"Samara?" asked Hope softly. "Do you know who did this?"

No answer.

"Was it your mother?"

Samara's eyes looked up at her and that was all. Hope and Smeagol exchanged looks and Hope re-adjusted the shirt.

"What should we do?" she asked. "We can't let someone beat her. It's not right."

"We'll talk to her parents." Smeagol took her by the arm and pulled her to the side. "Listen," he whispered, making sure Samara didn't hear. "If there's anyone who would have done this, it's her father. He hates her, he said so himself. Her mother's too frail to handle this. She's afraid of him, I've seen it in her eyes."

"Oh my god," muttered Hope. "What should we do?"

"Confront him. He can't get away with hurting her... of all the nerve." They both jumped when there was a knock at the door. They looked over and standing there was Deagol. Hope gasped and smacked her forehead.

"Oh, shit! I forgot Deagol's lesson. I'll see you later, all right?"

"Yes," he answered. Hope hurried to her room to get changed and then left with Deagol.


	6. Building a Mystery

That afternoon Hope and Smeagol took Samara home. Much to their luck, Samara's father was the only one home. Hope felt herself clinging onto Samara's shoulder tighter. How could she leave her alone when it was clearly not safe, especially when the mother was gone.

"Hello, Smeagol," said the father kindly as he let them in. Hope looked down at Samara and stepped inside with her and Smeagol. "And who are you?" he asked her.

"Hope-Anne," she replied. "Your daughter is really a great child."

"Well," he said with less enthusiasm. "That's good to hear. Can I get you two anything?"

"Some answers," replied Smeagol. The man seemed confused but listened. Hope held up Samara's bloodstained dress.

"Can you please tell us where the blood came from?" she asked. The man's eyes widened.

"I'm... sorry, I really don't know. Is she all right?"

"We found a whip lash on her back. Do you know where it came from?"

"Whip lash?" he asked. Hope rolled her eyes.

"Oh, don't act dumb. As if you don't know." She turned Samara around and showed him the nasty cut. "There," she said, pointing to it. "You know where it came from and we want some answers."

"I swear, I don't know," he said defensively. "I was gone all morning. Her mother..."

"Wouldn't do something like this," said Smeagol. "But we'll ask her, just the same. In the meantime, for your sake, I suggest you leave the girl alone." He shot the father a warning glance and then dragged Hope out the door.

"Smeagol!" she protested once they were away from the house. "You don't honestly believe him, do you?"

"I don't know," he said, staring at the ground. "I haven't heard enough. He really didn't seem to know what we were talking about. Maybe he's telling the truth."

"Oh yeah, and Gollum really didn't mean to try and kill Frodo in the spider pit!"

"What?" he asked. She stopped herself and shook her head.

"Never mind. It's something you won't get till much later. But that's not important! The point is, is it really a good idea to leave her alone with him? Especially now that he knows we know?"

"But we don't know it was him," he objected.

"You said yourself you didn't trust him."

"And I don't. But if he really was, do you honestly think he'd so much as lay a finger on her, hurtfully now that we know what to look for? It'd be unwise." Hope sighed and her pace was slowly turning into an angry stomp. "Besides, if he did, she'd tell us." Hope stopped dead in her tracks and looked at him, trembling.

"Smeagol," she muttered. "What if she can't?" Smeagol stared at her confused. "Children don't just shut down by themselves. I saw those portraits, Smeagol. She used to be normal like the other children. Whatever's happened to her was done on purpose. What if this is her way of telling us something's wrong? What if he's threatened her each time he beats her so she's become too afraid to talk? I've seen it happen."

"Well I haven't, but it's a possibility. Let's just wait till the morning when we can ask the mother, all right?" Hope groaned, but nodded.

"Fine," she snarled. "But he had better not touch her again. I lost one friend to an abusive father. I won't do it again."

"Come on, Deagol, you almost had it that time," urged Hope as she and Deagol struggled with the guitar. It was the next day and Smeagol and her hand planned to visit the mother in the afternoon. She should be home this time.

"I don't think I'm getting the hang of it. It's too hard."

"Don't give up," warned Hope. "Do you think I got to where I am in an instant? I had to practice my butt off for days just to learn how to strum properly. What makes you think you'll get it all in one minute? Just give yourself some time. Now, try again." Deagol positioned his fingers and tried to strum again. Strumming down had already been mastered. But strumming back up was more of a challenge. He tried twice and then shook his head.

"I'm not meant to do this, Hope." Hope sighed and looked off into the distance. She could see the forest ahead and hear the sounds of running water from the river. At that moment and idea came to her.

"Deagol, you like fishing, right?"

"I love it," he said with a smile. "It's so much more relaxing to get out in a boat in the middle of the river and just watch the sky."

"Great," she said with a smile. "I have an idea."

"Okay, now once more..."

They were in the middle of the river Anduin, in a boat, Deagol with a guitar in his hands. He smiled at her brilliant idea and tried again. Hope had figured it would be easier if he were in a more relaxing environment. He started strumming and before he knew it, he had it right. Hope applauded and cheered him on.

"Awesome!" she said with a big smile. "I told you you could do it."

"Well," he said, handing her the guitar. "You promised if I got it down today that you would play me another song."

"What is it with you guys and my songs?" she asked, half laughing. She took the guitar from him and started strumming.

_You come out at night_

_When the energy comes_

_And the dark side's light_

_And the vampire's roam_

_You strut your rasta wear _

_And your suicide poem_

_And a cross from a faith _

_That died before Jesus came_

_You're building a mystery_

_You live in a church_

_Where you sleep with voodoo dolls_

_And you won't give up the search_

_For the ghosts in the halls_

_You wear sandals in the snow_

_And a smile that won't wash away_

_Can you look out the window_

_Without your shadow getting in the way_

_Oh your so beautiful_

_With an edge and a charm_

_But so careful_

_When I'm in your arms_

_Cause your working_

_Building a mystery_

_Holding on, holding in_

_Yeah your working_

_Building a mystery_

_And choosing so carefully_

_You woke up screaming aloud_

_A prayer from your secret god_

_You feed off your fears _

_And hold back your tears_

_Give us a tantrum and _

_A know it all grin_

_Just when we need one_

_When the evening's thin_

_Oh your beautiful_

_A beautiful fucked up man_

_And setting up your razor wire shrine_

_Cause you're working_

_Building a mystery_

_And holding on, holding in_

_Yeah, you're working_

_Building a mystery_

_And choosing so carefully_

_(song by Sarah McLachlan)_

"I love your voice," said Deagol with a smile. "Especially with songs like that."

"The hard thing is, the majority of the songs I like are too high for me to sing," she laughed.

"Can I ask you something?" he asked softly.

"Okay," she said.

"What's a clown?" Hope made a face.

"What?"

"Your shirt says that clowns will eat you if you fall asleep." She started laughing and looked down at her shirt. It was black with white writing that went in a spiral saying "Can't sleep! Clowns will eat me..." repeatedly.

"A clown is kind of like a court Jester, you know what I'm talking about right?"

"Yeah. I know what those are."

"That's basically what a clown is except they have their faces painted white and they had orange frizzy hair, and a big red mouth. I used to be so afraid of them when I was little."

"I can understand," he laughed.

"So. Do you want to do this again next lesson?"

"Of coarse! This worked perfectly."

"Glad to hear it. We'd better head back though before your father thinks I took you fishing." They rowed back and after being paid, Hope headed back to Smeagol's home and they prepared to leave to Samara's house.


	7. Babysteps

"Come in, you two," said Samara's mother sweetly when they arrived. They both smiled at her, and Hope carried Samara who had fallen asleep in her arms. Her mother noticed and gently tucked a stray lock of hair behind Samara's ear. "Like a baby," she muttered.

"We need to talk to you about something," said Hope softly. She was more up to holding her temper for Samara's mother.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Yesterday, Samara started bleeding at my house," said Smeagol. "When we, or Hope I should say, went to clean it, we found a large cut that looks like a whip lash."

"Now," said Hope before the mother could say anything. "For the record, I don't think it was you and I'm not accusing you, but we both need to know, do you know where it came from?" They both showed her the mark and she gasped.

"My husband promised he'd stop doing this to her!" she gasped. Smeagol and Hope both looked at each other.

"What do you mean?" asked Smeagol.

"He used to whip her all the time to try and make her behave. I made him promise me he would stop and I thought he had. My poor child."

"You will talk to him, won't you?" asked Hope.

"Indeed I will. I promise both of you that I will put a stop to this, one way or another."

"Thankyou," said Smeagol with a sad smile. They took their leave and went home. Along the way they ran into Deagol.

"You two look like you just saw death," he said, staring at their depressed faces.

"We had a bad day," muttered Hope. Smeagol didn't say anything but nodded. They both felt like dirt for even thinking of confronting the mother who had obviously not done anything.

"What's wrong with you two?" asked Deagol, a little more concerned this time.

"It's too complicated," said Smeagol, waving it off.

"All right," said Deagol, looking a little disappointed. "Well, I don't like seeing you like this so let's do something tonight. Just have some fun."

Hope smiled and looked at Smeagol.

"That sounds great," he said with a grin. "What should we do?"

"Swimming in the river at night is always great. It's nice and cool."

"Okay," said Hope. "When should we meet you?"

"How about nine o'clock?"

"We'll be there," said Smeagol. "We'd better get home, Hope before Tabby starts to worry."

"All right," she said softly. "See you tonight." They left and Smeagol gave her a strange smile.

"What?" she asked.

"You and Deagol. If I didn't know any better I'd say you liked him."

"Of coarse I like him," she said with a smile. "He's my friend."

"That's not quite what I meant. I mean like him a little too much? Maybe as more than a friend?"

"What?! No!" she cried, her cheeks turning red. "You honestly think that he and I... no! Never! Not in a million years!" Smeagol laughed and patted her on the back.

"I was only teasing you. If you say you don't like him like that then I believe you."

"All right," she muttered. He turned and looked at her more seriously.

"You really don't feel that way for him?"

"No!" she exclaimed. He nodded and they kept on walking. Hope could almost swear she heard him mutter good under his breath.

When they got home, Smeagol told Tabby their plans for the night and to Hope's amazement she was okay with it. At home if she were to leave at nine with any guy, she'd be slaughtered. There was one thing on her mind. What would she do for a bathing suit? She was sure there wasn't one in her pack the last time she looked.

As they headed to their rooms to get changed she decided to look for a t-shirt and shorts instead. But when she fished around, to her surprised there was a swimingsuit inside. Hope began to wonder if the bag was magic. She held it up and examined it. It was a black bakini with red straps, not too skimpy with a fish net shawl to tie around the waist. She smiled at it and put it on, watching in the mirror. It actually looked good on her and she shawl was a perfect touch. Smeagol knocked on her door and she let him in, knowing she was covered, mostly.

Smeagol's eyes widened when he saw her suit and a grin spread on his face.

"What?" she asked, beginning to feel uncomfortable.

"Nothing. You look... pretty. I've never seen clothing like that before."

"It's just for swimming in. Better than a pair of pants anyway." He nodded and smiled.

"I like it," he said staring at the shawl. Outside it was very warm, to her surprise. The day had been hot, but she didn't think it had been that hot. They found Deagol halfway along the way and he gave her the same look Smeagol had.

"Hi, Hope," he said, staring at what was exposed of her chest. She raised her eyebrows and laughed, making him look away. They made it to the river and she waited till they had waded in before she kicked off her sandals.

"Come on," called Smeagol. She slowly stepped in and found the water was refreshing and she pushed off onto her stomach when she was up to her hips. She swam out to Smeagol and he caught her in his arms. She giggled for no reason and he smiled. His words still rung in her head, though he hadn't meant for her to hear them. Now that she was in his arms, she began to wonder if he really liked her more than he was letting her see.

They were interrupted from their 'moment' when Smeagol was suddenly thrown backwards by Deagol who had swum underneath him and grabbed him by the ankles, making him lose his footing. They two fell under the water and rose up coughing and gagging.

Deagol was laughing and soon Hope joined in as well, once she realized how funny it had been. She jumped on Deagol, making him fall from not being prepared. Smeagol was soon on his feet and held both of their heads under the water for a few seconds. He let go when Deagol pinched him hard on the wrist. Deagol surfaced, laughing and splashing at Smeagol, but Hope had disappeared. They both looked around and soon Deagol fell backwards from being pulled off his feet, leaving Smeagol to shout in surprise and look around for Hope, waiting to be pulled under as well. She surfaced behind him and jumped on his back, flinging her arms around his neck. They both fell backwards into the water, kicking and splashing all the way.

Smeagol felt something soft press against his neck quickly and withdraw. His eyes looked to the side and even with his vision blurred from the water, he could see Hope's head near his neck where he had felt it.

They surfaced and saw that Deagol was nowhere to be seen. "Deagol?" cried Hope cautiously. They both looked around and began to feel uneasy. A brown thick liquid splattered on both of them and they looked up to see Deagol up in the tree with an empty bucket of mud. Hope shrieked and dived under frantically scrubbing it from her hair. When she finally surfaced she was pulled out of the way by Smeagol so that Deagol could jump in without landing on her. They all took a moment to calm down and laughed.

"See?" said Deagol after a moment. "Laughter. This is all I wanted to hear from you two after today. I'm glad to see I was successful."

"Successful in making us a mess you mean," laughed Smeagol. "Don't worry, we'll get even eventually."

"Fair's fair," said Deagol with a shrug. "I have to leave though. It's getting late."

"See you tomorrow then," called Hope as she waved. Deagol left, leaving them alone. Hope floated out on her back and kicked herself a few feet away, savoring the moment.

"May I ask you something?" asked Smeagol. Hope sunk back to her feet and looked at him.

"Yes?" she asked.

"Did you kiss my neck when we fell backwards in the water?" Hope's face burned red. She had hoped the water had kept his skin from feeling that. Looking back, she really didn't know why she had done it.

"I must have bumped into you when we fell," she lied. "Why?"

"Nothing. I figured as much. Forgive me."

"It's okay. Just for the record, I doubt I'll ever kiss a guy ever so you don't have to worry."

"Why do you think that?"

"C'mon. It's not like I've never looked in the mirror before. There are tons of girls out there prettier than me. I just have to accept the fact that there's probably no other half that'll actually be attracted to me."

"And you believe this?" he asked, a hint of shock in his voice.

"I think most girls do. At least where I come from anyways. All I know is I've only had one boyfriend in my entire life and... looking back he may not have been a good choice."

"At least you seem to have good judgment when it comes to boys."

"I do usually, but the minute they say things like, You're so beautiful or I want to be with you I come crumbling. Whatever was left of my will is gone and I believe them just because I want to hear it again. It's really selfish if you think about it."

"Maybe," said Smeagol with a shrug. "But I guess I can understand, even though I'm no girl." Hope giggled.

"Well, I'd hope not."

"So what about this boyfriend? Are you two still together?"

"I guess not," she muttered. "My parents somehow knew all along he wasn't any good. Probably the one time I should've listened."

"And what would they say if someone such as I came along?" She laughed.

"Oh there'd be trouble all right," she teased. "Nah. I actually think they'd respect you. They'd like you."

"And what about you?" She smiled.

"Smeagol, we may not be a couple, but if I ever do date again, I want my boyfriend to be like you. Someone who respects me and doesn't care how weird I look in my Gothic apparel." She stopped and her smile faded. "At least, I don't think you do?"

"I care not as long as you're dressed modestly."

"Oh, then I guess I look really... bad in this bakini?" she asked. He shrugged.

"Maybe a little. But you look pretty in it." She laughed and shook her head.

"Nice try but I'm not falling for that so easily."

"Falling for what?" he asked with a smile.

"Saying I'm pretty, trying to make me feel like I am."

"I'm not trying to trick you," he said with a smile, inching closer to her.

"Then stop looking at me like that," she said, inching away. He stopped and sighed. She saw the look on his face and suddenly realized he had meant every word he had said. She came back and gave him a hug from behind. "Thanks," she whispered. He smiled and reached up and touched her arms. She let go and he turned so he was facing her. He wanted so badly to just kiss her, to let her know how he felt, but quickly thought better of it. Instead he took her hand and placed a small kiss on it.

"Babysteps," he whispered softly. She nodded and smiled.

"Thanks for understanding."


	8. Give me a chance

When they got home she went to her room to change into her pajamas. As she reached for her bag she thought she had heard a sound, like a scream. She turned and looked out the window but could see nothing through the darkness. The warning in the pit of her stomach was overbearing and she left out the door, still dressed in her wet bakini and barefooted.

She found her way on the dark path to Samara's house and froze, staring into the window. The shades were drawn over all the windows and all was dark, except for in one room. Another scream called her attention to that window. She saw a smaller form that she could only guess was Samara being beaten savagely by a taller form. She gasped and thought of running to the door and stopping it, but something kept her from going. Instead she stood there and watched for five long minutes until it ended. Then the light in the taller shadow left and all that could be heard was the small, muffled sobs coming from Samara. Her shadow moved to that shade and it opened, revealing her bloody and mangled face. Hope's eyes widened as tears flooded them and she stood there, silently sobbing and watching as the child, who was sobbing loudly, stared back at her.

Hope knew it was safe now and staggered over to the window, forcing herself to get closer to Samara. She walked up to her till she was only a foot away and stopped as her tears fell. Samara did not speak but simply stared at her as her face bled.

Hope did not know what happened next. All she felt was something hard strike her on the back of the head and everything went black.

Hope woke up in a dark place, shivering and cold. She was still wet from the previous night and was trying to remember what had happened. A small trail of light shined in through the crack in the wooden wall her body was leaning against. She stood up, slightly dazed from the throbbing headache she now had, and slowly began to piece together what had happened. As her eyes adjusted she began to realize where she was. It was some sort of shed filled with garden supplies. How had she ended up there?

She knew she didn't have time to try to remember. Smeagol was probably wondering where she was. She felt her way to the door and tried to push it open. It wouldn't budge. She tried again. Still nothing. She was trapped. Her anger raged and she shook the door violently, shouting for help.

"Is anybody there?" she shouted. "Get me out!" There was no answer and she began to tire of shaking the doors. At last her strength was spent and she collapsed in tears.

Her stomach was roaring from not eating in a long time. She was wet and freezing. Her bakini was covered in dirt and mud and her hair was probably a mess by now. She was at the end of her rope.

A click.

The door slowly came open and standing there was Samara with a small key in her hand. Hope stood to her feet, slightly confused. Samara tried to speak.

"H-Had to... w-w-wait till..... mommy and... d-d-daddy were... gone," she stuttered. Hope caught a glimpse of the cut, just above Samara's right eye and everything seemed to come back. The beating, someone hitting her on the head from behind, darkness.

"Are you all right?" she asked frantically. There was the sound of someone heading in that direction.

"G-go!" cried Samara. Hope turned and ran as quickly as she could and was soon out of sight just as she heard a shout of anger.

She ran all the way back to Smeagol's house and staggered into her bedroom. There she changed her clothes and took care of her hair, fighting back tears the whole time.

Smeagol stepped in a few minutes later with a strange look in his face.

"You were gone, all last night," he said questioningly.

"Smeagol," she said, a look of desperation on her face. "They're beating her. I'm not sure who it was, but they're beating her! I saw it with my own eyes. She's in danger."

"Wait, who is?" he asked confused.

"Samara. I saw them beating her last night and then one of them hit me on the back of the head and stuffed me in a shed." She showed him the gash on the back of her head. Smeagol's eyes widened and he seized her by the arms.

"Are you all right?"

"Never mind me. They're going to kill her if someone doesn't put a stop to this!"

"We'll let my grandmother know. She's the matriarch of these lands. She'll make it end."

"Okay," whispered Hope. She broke into tears and Smeagol embraced her. "Oh god," she muttered. "I can't believe this is happening."

"It's going to be all right, Hope."

They did let Tabby know and she planned to make a visit there that evening. Hope slept for a few hours, under Smeagol's watchful eye and did not wake till late in the afternoon.

Smeagol was reading by the fire when Hope walked in with a blanket around her shoulders. He looked up and she smiled at him, slowly approaching the sofa. She sat down next to him and he put his arm around her, allowing her to rest her head on his chest.

"Feeling better?" asked Smeagol.

"A little," she muttered. "I'm still tired but I knew I had to get up."

"Tabby told me to let you be," he muttered. Hope smirked and then sat up.

"Smea, look, there's been something on my mind that I think we need to talk about, especially after last night." He looked at her and then adjusted his seat.

"All right," he said, nodding.

"About what I said, about you and I... I may have said things I didn't mean. And I was wrong to kiss you on the neck."

"So you did..." She blushed and nodded. "Why do you think it was so wrong?"

"Because I know that you and I will never happen and I was too forward and I'm sorry. I'm not ready for a serious relationship yet."

Smeagol shook his head.

"When are you going to trust men again, Hope?" he asked. "I understand if you're mad after your friend died, but not all men are like that. Some of us really do mean it when we say we care or we think a girl is pretty."

"Smeagol, it's not that I don't trust men. I just know that it would never work out." She sighed and shrugged. "I'm afraid of getting hurt."

"If you spend your life, running from love because of fear, then you might as well not live at all."

"You don't understand, all right?" She shook her head and stood up. "Just forget about it okay? Forget anything ever happened."

"No," he said, standing up as well. "I can't forget about it because it was real. The way I feel for you is real and I don't know how to prove it to you." He turned his back to her and threw his hands up in the air. "Do you know how hard it is, loving someone who doesn't trust you and won't give you a chance? Give me a chance. Let me show you it's real. You can't just judge right now that it'd never work between us unless you've tried." He turned again and saw she was in tears.

"Smeagol, you're young. You don't know what love is yet and neither do I. Please. Don't force us to make a mistake we may regret in the end. I don't want to lose you as a friend." He walked up to her and placed a hand on her cheek, brushing a tear away.

"And I don't want to lose you," he whispered. She stared into his eyes, almost making him feel she was reconsidering. "Please," he whispered. "Give me a chance." She closed her eyes and withdrew.

"I can't," she muttered. "Not yet." She turned and left outside, leaving him to stand there and stare.


	9. The Well

Hope's arms were folded over her chest as she walked and she stopped by the well where she had first appeared. She looked up to the sky and shouted angrily.

"Take me away from here! I don't know what you're trying to do to me but I can't do this anymore! Please, let me go home!" There was no answer and she closed her eyes and fell to her knees in tears.

There was a russel in the bushes behind her and she heard a shout and the sounds of a child crying. Hope hurried into the tallest patch of grass she could find and hid herself, watching closely.

"I told you to stay out of it!" shouted a woman who was now stepping into view, her daughter being dragged behind her. "Now that girl has probably told the matriarch everything. Is that what you want? Do you want me and your father exiled and you placed in an orphanage?" The little girl sobbed but did not answer. Hope gasped as she suddenly recognized them. It was Samara and her mother. The woman grabbed Samara by the shoulders fiercely and shook her.

"I've had enough of you and now I'm going to make it end." She untied her apron and tied it tightly over Samara's face and then carried her to the well. She carefully tilted her over and Samara fell in head first. Hope restrained a scream.

The mother stayed there for a moment and then suddenly slapped a hand over her mouth, looking as though she were ready to vomit.

"My daughter," she shrieked. "I just murdered my daughter!" she turned and ran away, leaving Hope to stare, slightly shocked by this new development. She ran to the well and looked in. It was deep and too dark to see.

"Samar- agh!" Something caught hold of her ankles and tipped her in, making her fall, screaming into the icy water. The surface of the water felt like cement and the wind was knocked out of her for a few moments. She looked up and heard a man's voice shouting.

"You should've minded your own business. Now you won't be telling anyone." He left and Hope screamed out in anger and then looked around for Samara. A cold hand touched her shoulder and she turned, finding Samara standing there, next to her.

"Are you all right?" asked Hope. Samara nodded. Hope wrapped her arms around her to help her keep warm and they waited for anyone to help.

"Smeagol? What's the matter with you?" asked Deagol. Smeagol sidestepped him and continued walking. "Hey, Smea, what's wrong?"

"Have you seen Hope anywhere?" he asked.

"No," muttered Deagol. "Why? Is she all right?"

"We had an argument and she stormed away. That was two hours ago. I want to see if she's okay."

"You're beginning to sound like her. But I haven't seen her. I'm sorry."

"Then help me look," said Smeagol. They left and ran around the village, asking if anyone had seen her at all. Soon there was a search sent out, but nobody found her that night. It was soon heard that Samara had gone missing as well and suspicion went around that Hope had something to do with it.

"This is my fault," muttered Smeagol to himself from inside his house. "If I hadn't angered her she wouldn't have ran."

"Don't worry," said Deagol as he sat next to him, handing him a cup of hot cocoa. "We will find her, I promise."

"She's been missing for nine hours. She could be anywhere," he said, fighting off tears. Tabby walked in with a bucket.

"Smeagol," she said handing it to him. "Please fetch some water?" Smeagol nodded and took it from her. Deagol left with him and they headed to the well.

Hope looked over at Samara's face. The freezing child was in her arms, desperately trying to keep warm. Her eyes were closed and Hope shook her gently.

"Hey," she whispered. "Wake up." Samara groaned but did not wake. Hope shook her a little harder. "Samara, wake up." She still did not wake. She was too cold. Hope clung to her closer and closed her eyes. A faint heartbeat was bearly heard but it was there. "Please," she whispered. "Don't die on me. Hold on a little longer."

There was a shuffling noise above her and she looked up to see the cover of the well being lifted off and someone looking over the edge. Hope's heart began pounding. It could easily have been Samara's father who would kill her, but she had to risk it.

"HELP!" she shouted. "Please! Get us out!" There was a long silence then much to her joy a familiar voice called down to her.

"Hope?! Is it you?"

"Smeagol!" she cried out as tears streamed down her face. "Get us out!"

"Wait a minute!" he called down to her. There was a crack and a bucket tied to a rope was quickly lowered down to them. When it was low enough she climbed onto the bucket and was pulled up, clinging on to Samara tightly.

Smeagol struggled to pull them out and Hope collapsed to the ground, Samara's body in her arms.

"Is she dead?" he asked, kneeling down to them.

"No," gasped Hope, who was on the edge of going hysterical. Smeagol helped her up and scooped Samara into his arms and they ran home.


	10. Risk Taker

Hope lay in her bed by the fire, thinking about what had happened. Samara was now resting at the physician's house, safe and healthy. Her parents were both sent into exile for abusing her. Samara was going to be adopted by a kinder family and hopefully she would get over the trauma she'd been put through with her parents. Everything concerning Samara was going to work out and Hope knew she no longer needed to worry about it.

There was, however, another matter to take care of. Smeagol obviously was not still angry with her if he saved her life, but he was still probably upset. Perhaps it was time to start trusting guys again? Smeagol was a good person after all, and he wouldn't hurt her. But then again, that's what she thought of her last boyfriend.

Before she could think it out further the door opened and he walked in with a small smile on his face. Hope glanced at her watch and back at him.

"Smeag, it's after midnight. What's wrong?" He closed the door and walked over to her bedside, sitting in a chair next to her.

"I just wanted to tell you, I thought about what happened earlier today, and I'm sorry for annoying you with it. You're right, we may not ever happen and I probly don't know what love is yet, but I know I care about you a lot and I promise to stop pestering you about it."

"Smea, you don't have to..."

"No. I want to. I have to respect your feelings."

"Yeah, but..."

"Don't even try to change my mind because it's made up." Hope, realizing she wasn't going to say a word sat up and placed both her hands on his face. He became quiet so she could speak.

"My mind's made up too. I'm ready to take a risk again. You were right all along. I just didn't know how to face the truth. But the truth is I do love you and I can't deny it anymore. I'm sorry it took me so long to see it."

Smeagol stared at her, and she could see an emotion in his eyes as though he could not resist any longer. He cupped his hands under her ears, and drew her face to his and kissed her with absolute longing. She melted and kissed him back softly, allowing him to love her. After a moment he pulled away and placed a hand on her cheek..

"I won't hurt you," he said softly to her. "I swear to God I won't." He pulled her to him and kissed her again, just because he could. She was his now and he loved her. He gently traced her lips with the tip of his tongue and she opened up, allowing him to deepen the kiss. He heard her moan, but whether it was from pain or pleasure, he could not tell. She did not pull away so he continued kissing her until he was forced to pull back for air. He stared at her, panting, and smiled.

"Whoa," she breathed. He laughed and hugged her tightly.

"I love you," he whispered. She smiled and nodded.

"I love you too."

He crawled behind her and gently placed his hands on her shoulders. His lips gently brushed on her neck and she leaned into him as he covered her neckline with loving kisses. A smile spread on her face and she savored the feeling of his strong arms around her. He rested his chin on her shoulder, and rubbed his face up and down her neck and shoulder like a cat nuzzling its owner. She giggled at the strange feeling and relaxed in his arms.

"Can I keep you?" he asked softly. She laughed and reached her arm up and behind her and rested her hand on his head.

"I don't know if you can afford me," she whispered. "I'm very expensive stuff."

"What if I gave you my heart? Would that cover it?" She smiled and closed her eyes, knowing she would mostlikely never hear that again from anyone.

"Only if I can give you mine," she whispered. He smiled and hugged her, kissing her cheek softly. He stood up slowly and looked at her.

"I'd better go. If Tabby walked in, it could look bad." She smiled and nodded, though her heart was begging him not to go. "Good night," he purred. Hope stood up and walked over to him.

"Good night," she whispered. He kissed her one last time before leaving, and she stood there in the doorway until drowsiness got the better of her and she went to bed. That night, the feeling of his lips on her neck never left and she knew now that she had given her heart away permanently, only this time, she picked the right one.


	11. Epilogue

The next morning, Smeagol and Hope slept in late, both exhausted from the previous night. Deagol met up with them eventually that afternoon by the Anduin, and they told him the entire story or what happened.

"Is she going to be alright?" he asked, still in complete shock.

"I think she is," said Hope. "The family who took her seems to love her, and she looks happy. I think she'll be fine."

"What about you two?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. "I know you two had an argument yesterday." Hope smiled and blushed, and Smeagol snickered to himself.

"We're fine," he muttered. "Everything's going to be alright." Deagol glanced at Hope suspiciously, and she turned redder, much to his amusement.

"Hope, you're not wearing black," he said to change the subject. Hope, who hadn't really noticed before, realized she wasn't. She only had on a baby blue T-shirt and jeans. She secretly thought she looked pretty when she looked in the mirror that morning.

"I guess I didn't need it, today," she said softly.

"You look nice," he complemented. "You always look so pale in black. But today you look nice."

"Thanks." She smiled to herself as she reclined by the shore and allowed her barefeet to touch the water.


End file.
